


Anti-kink: Voyeurism

by ash_carpenter



Series: Anti-kink [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_carpenter/pseuds/ash_carpenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Next installment in my anti-kink series (from my LJ <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=ash_carpenter&keyword=Anti-kink&filter=all">here</a>).</p>
<p>Sam thinks that it would be hot to watch Dean with someone else. As it turns out, Sam's kind of an idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anti-kink: Voyeurism

**Voyeurism**  
  
  
“So...You want to watch me?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And not touch?”  
  
“Well, no. Someone else will be touching you.”  
  
“You want some stranger to maul me while you, what? Jerk off?”  
  
“Uh...yeah. I guess.” Sam frowned; maybe he hadn’t really thought this through.  
  
“But...But jerking off’s for when there’s no-one right there to do it for you!” Dean stared at him incredulously, wondering how on earth he’d raised someone who didn’t even understand masturbation etiquette.  
  
If Sam had been having second thoughts, Dean’s negativity soon convinced him that he was, of course, right. Not that he was stubborn or anything. “Typical. Just can’t step outside the box, can you?” he said breezily, blatantly baiting Dean.  
  
Although he had no idea which particular box Sam might be referring to, Dean bristled. “You know what, fine. We’ll do it. I mean, you’re the one who’s gonna be left there choking the bishop while I get my dick sucked. Jesus, Sam...Only you could cockblock _yourself_.”  
  
Sam gave him a highly unimpressed look. “Just concentrate on finding someone stupid enough to fall for one of your ridiculous chat-up lines.”  
  
“Like you did...?”  
  
Sam punched his brother in the shoulder, because he’d well and truly walked into that one, but physical violence was far preferable to admitting defeat.  
  
Chuckling to himself, smug as hell, Dean continued, “I don’t know why I gotta go to a bar to find someone stupid, when I have someone perfectly stupid at home to polish my knob...”  
  
“God, Dean! Just...don’t talk. Ever. You know, that’s why I like you sucking me off so much: I don’t have to listen to your crap for a change!” Which wasn’t strictly true – he loved seeing and feeling Dean’s perfect mouth wrapped around him – but whatever.  
  
“Oh really? Well, guess I’d better get on my knees for whichever guy I pick up tonight then, huh? Wouldn’t wanna put him off with my _crap_.”  
  
“Wait, what? You’re gonna pick up a guy?” asked Sam, eyes wide. He’d expected that Dean would choose a girl, and the thought of him with another man was...well, hot, yes, but also surprisingly irritating.  
  
Dean stifled a smirk. Ha! How typical of Sam not to even realise what a jealous little bitch he was. “Yeah, why not? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”  
  
Sam shrugged, overly nonchalant. “Yeah, sure. Right, exactly.”  
  
“Fine then.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Cool.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Are we done yet?”  
  
“Hold on.” Dean held up a finger. “Bitch.” He paused, considering, and then nodded to himself. “Yeah, now we’re done.”  
  
Sam glared and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself. At this rate, Dean’s hook-up could damned well keep him! Ass.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Picking someone up hadn’t been too difficult for Dean; they were in a largish town, they’d chosen a bar with a younger, student crowd, and Dean had shaken his ass and batted his eyelashes and pouted his lips like a wanton slut at the drunkest men around.  
  
Actually getting him outside to put on a show for Sam had been more challenging.  
  
When they’d try to sneak out of the back entrance, the fire alarm had gone off and it had been necessary to evacuate the building. While Sam wanted to engage in a little voyeurism, he didn’t really want the other two hundred people currently littering the sidewalk to get a show as well.  
  
Dean and his hook-up – Jed or Jez or some other stupid name that went along with his stupid All-American good looks and stupid toned physique, not that Sam was feeling insecure or anything – loitered around until the all-clear was given by some annoyed-looking firefighters, and then Dean nodded toward the nearest alley.  
  
Then it started to rain.  
  
Jed...Jez...(Sam couldn’t settle on a name so decided that “Douche” would suffice)...Douche started motioning back to the bar, apparently trying to pussy out because of a little drizzle. What, was he afraid that he was going to shrink? Sam sneered, awarding himself an imaginary point.  
  
Naturally, Dean made his sultry, pouty model-face and Douche gave it up like a virgin on prom night, practically breaking his neck rushing into the alley. Sam waited until they were out of sight and then employed all of his hunter skill and grace to creep in behind them like a shadow.  
  
“Fuck!” Sam yelped as he barked his shin on a packing crate, belatedly trying to muffle the cry against his forearm.  
  
“What was that?” hissed Douche, startled.  
  
“Uh, nothing. Probably just some clumsy idiot,” said Dean, stepping close to the other man to recapture his attention. Really, it was hard to credit that Sam hadn’t gotten himself caught and eaten by some beastie long ago, the cretin.  
  
Irritated, Sam nevertheless sucked it up and hid behind a dumpster, peeking around it to see the action.  
  
The dumpster was quite stinky, actually. Rotten food didn’t really provide the kind of ambience he wanted while jerking off.  
  
Apparently, the bar served fish of some description.  
  
Trying to block out the stench, Sam focussed on the scene before him. Douche was apparently completely transfixed by Dean, which was pretty understandable, given how hot and sultry he looked with his back up against the alley wall and his eyes half-lidded in a “fuck me” gaze. He seemed cheap and slutty – and it was one hell of a good look on him; Sam felt his cock thicken and fill out in his jeans.  
  
“C’mere,” murmured Dean huskily, tugging on Douche’s belt-loop. He went eagerly, lips crashing into Dean’s and a low moan issuing from his throat. He was enthusiastic, licking out Dean’s mouth and grinding up against him, hands exploring with a kind of entitlement that made Sam’s dick pulse even as he ground his teeth together.  
  
Dean put his skill to use in adding a little finesse to the kiss, making it less sloppy, but he submitted to the roaming hands, even pushing into the touches. He wanted to put on a good show for Sammy, even though he didn’t like this guy, who’d spent fifteen minutes bragging about the amazing paper he’d written on structured finance modelling (or some such crap) and whose breath was a little funky.  
  
Sam rubbed himself through his pants, and couldn’t help noticing that he’d rather have _Dean’s_ hand getting him off. Like Douche. The asshat was already moaning and grunting, thrusting against Dean’s palm like an over-eager mongrel. Even though it was sexy to watch, Sam couldn’t really deny that the nasty acidic sensation boiling in his gut was jealousy.  
  
And then it got worse. Deciding that the over-the-clothes groping wasn’t enough, Douche abruptly grabbed Dean and switched their places, leaning up against the grimy wall himself and pushing urgently on Dean’s shoulders. Sam heard a choked-off sound that was rather like a growl – and realised that it was coming from him.  
  
Dean was taken aback by the manoeuvre, especially since the kid hadn’t exactly being showing much in the way of either co-ordination or prowess up to that point. Stumbling, he ended up on his knees, which he supposed was sort of the point, and cursed when he felt concrete against his skin and realised that he’d scraped a hole in his favourite pair of jeans. Shit! Sam was so sewing that up.  
  
However, all indignant thoughts were soon eclipsed by the fact that a cock was being shoved in his face. The thing was, Dean liked sucking dick. He tried to pretend he didn’t (not that Sam believed him), but in reality he fucking loved having a hard shaft stuffed down his throat. And this kid? Had a pretty dick. Big and thick, slightly curved. Dean embarrassingly felt spit flood his mouth and he leaned forward to lap eagerly at the head, groaning at the salty, musky flavour.  
  
For the first time that night, he grew hard. Spreading his knees a little wider – and, wait, what the hell was the wetness he could feel at his right knee? Gross! – he adjusted himself in his jeans and began to knead his shaft through the denim. He took the kid’s cock deeper into his throat, passing his tongue over the thick vein in broad sweeps and sucking hard.  
  
The guy threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair and tugged him to a faster, deeper rhythm, moaning encouragingly and cursing as Dean took out his own dick and began to fist it. “Yeah, that’s right. Gets you off, huh? Being down on your knees like a little...What the fuck?!”  
  
Dean jerked back at the startled words, narrowly avoiding a pelvic bone getting smashed into his nose. He felt slightly dazed and he turned his head sluggishly, trying to find the source of the kid’s distress. What he saw was a very large, very pissed off man stomping toward them with his fists clenched.  
  
Oh, right. Sam.  
  
Dean fell on his ass as his brother deliberately knocked him with his knee, throwing a solid punch at the poor guy who was frantically trying to fumble his erection back into his pants. He screamed and slid down the wall to land in a heap.  
  
Dean blinked and looked up questioningly at Sam.  
  
“What the hell, Dean?!”  
  
“Me, what the hell? YOU, what the hell?!” he countered.  
  
“Whatever happened to _him_ sucking _your_ dick?” demanded Sam.  
  
“Huh?” questioned Dean intelligently as he struggled to his feet. What the fuck difference did it make? “Whatever happened to you not being completely fucking insane?!”  
  
Douche moaned in pain and Sam gave him a vicious little kick. “Shut up.”  
  
“Sam!”  
  
“You were supposed to just use some asshole to get you off so that you could put on a show for me! You were acting like I wasn’t even there!”  
  
Dean shook his head. Actually, yes, for a minute there he had sort of forgotten about his stupid, pervert brother hiding behind the dumpster, but that wasn’t the point! He wasn’t an expert on voyeurism, but weren’t they supposed to be acting as if Dean didn’t know Sam was there? He frowned in confusion.  
  
Sam barrelled on. “And you were enjoying getting him off! What the hell is wrong with you?”  
  
“Wasn’t I supposed to be enjoying it...?”  
  
“No! I mean, yeah...but no! You’re only supposed to enjoy getting _me_ off! Right, that’s it.”  
  
“Sam. Sam, what are you doing?” asked Dean with mild alarm as Sam bent down to haul the kid groggily to his feet.  
  
“I’m putting Douche in the stinky dumpster,” he replied matter-of-factly, trying to hoist the guy over his shoulders. He suddenly came around a bit at that point, screaming and kicking out.  
  
“You’re _what_?! What are you, twelve? Put him down.”  
  
“I will put him down. In the dumpster.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and stepped forward, tugging on Sam’s arms and trying to get him to release the kid. They got into a fairly ridiculous tug-of-war situation, the guy’s distressed shouts for help filling the alley.  
  
“Dean, let go!”  
  
“Sam, this is not funny! Let go of his leg!”  
  
Suddenly a flashlight shone brightly over their faces, illuminating the little scene. “What the hell is going on here?” barked a silhouetted figure, immediately saying something into the walkie-talkie that he was carrying.  
  
The bouncer. No doubt calling for additional help to deal with the crazies in the alleyway. Dean suddenly remembered that his cock was still hanging out of his pants and he quickly let go of the kid to fasten himself up.  
  
Unfortunately, Sam also released him upon hearing the bouncer, and he tumbled to the floor with a squawk, knocking himself out against the concrete.  
  
“Now look what you’ve done.”  
  
Sam levelled him with a Force 9 Bitchface Special. They squared up to one another for a moment before they heard the sound of pounding feet.  
  
“We should go.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Half an hour later, they arrived back at the motel, Dean seething. Running, ducking, weaving and hiding to avoid both the bouncers and the local cops, all the while sporting a hard-on that just wouldn’t quit, really hadn’t improved his mood.  
  
Sam, however, seemed to have calmed down a little, and was even looking a bit sheepish, probably having realised that it was all his fault for being a massive tool.  
  
“Dean.” The puppy-dog eyes were just gearing up and Sam reached out for his brother, being as cute and conciliatory as he could manage.  
  
Dean slapped his hand away with a warning glare.  
  
Sam sighed as if Dean was being highly unreasonable and motioned at his crotch, which was still perky. “Don’t you want some help with that?”  
  
“No! You know what, you wanted to watch so bad? You can peep through the keyhole while I jerk myself off in the bathroom!” he yelled as he stomped into the room in question, slamming the door behind him with jarring force.  
  
Sam huffed in exasperation. Then cocked his head in consideration. He _was_ still horny, and just the idea of seeing his brother jacking off was pretty hot...  
  
Sam crept over to the bathroom door, straining his ears for the sexy little grunts and the wet slapping sounds of flesh on flesh. His dick filled out with interest again and he dropped to his knees next to the door, pressing his face to the wood and peering through the keyhole. He could see tile, and sink, and towels and...where the hell was Dean...?  
  
“GAH!” He flinched back and fell on his ass as a furious green orb suddenly filled his vision, Dean glowering through the keyhole from the other side.  
  
“Oh my God, you sick freak! I wasn’t serious!”  
  
Sam flushed with humiliation, picking at a carpet fibre with extreme fascination and trying to look casual, as if he meant to be sitting on the floor, legs akimbo, with his cock trying to fight its way free from his jeans. “Yeah, I know. I was...”  
  
“Yeah?” prompted Dean mockingly as the pause dragged out. This oughta be good.  
  
“Yeah, I got nothin’.”  
  
Dean snorted. “Go to bed, Sam.”  
  
Sighing, Sam did as he was told, looking ruefully at his persistently hard dick.  
  
Watching really wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
  



End file.
